


A Man Walks into a Tavern

by FourCatProductions



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Explicit Consent, Fantastic Racism, M/M, One Night Stands, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Skyrim Kink Meme, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/FourCatProductions
Summary: The New Gnisis Cornerclub gets an unexpected visitor.





	A Man Walks into a Tavern

**Author's Note:**

> Written a couple of years ago for the anon on the kink meme who just wanted to see Ambarys get laid. This is the cleaned-up and edited version. If you're still out there and find this, anon, I hope you enjoy.

“Go back to Morrowind, greyskins!”

It was getting to be damn near every night now, the younger Stone-Fist and his friends. Ambarys fumed behind the counter while Malthyr swept, broom scratching angrily across the floorboards. Revyn paced in front of the doors like he was afraid one of them was going to make a break for it. “They’re drunk,” he soothed – at least, Ambarys assumed he meant it to be soothing. It sounded more like a plea. “They’ll grow bored or pass out soon enough.”

“And then they’ll be back tomorrow,” Ambarys growled, slamming a bottle of greef and a glass on the counter. Malthyr covertly moved the fireplace poker out of arm’s reach.

“Letting them bait you is exactly what they want,” Suvaris said. She sat at the table beside the bar, flanked by her brothers with her mug clutched tight in her work-worn hands. “Just ignore them.”

“What, being accused of spying for the Empire wasn’t enough for you?” Ambarys poured himself a generous slug and downed it, then poured another. “Unlike you lot, I’m tired of sitting around waiting for them to make good on their threats.”

Suvaris’ eyes narrowed. “You think I enjoy this?”

“You seem content enough as the Shatter-Shield’s pet.”

Too far, he knew at once, too much and too far, but the words were already out there. She jerked back like he’d struck her. Faryl was on his feet in an instant, but Idesa banged her cup against the bar before he could take so much as a step, silencing them all. Ambarys met her scathing look with a sneer.

“Apologize,” she said, unmoved. “Suvaris isn’t your enemy.”

“This place reeks!” One of the men outside screamed, and the rest of them howled, voices echoing off the stone. “Smells like filthy elf!”

Ambarys breathed out through his nose, counted to three. “Fine.” Idesa’s eyes narrowed, and he added, somewhat begrudgingly, “Shouldn’t have said it.”

Suvaris sipped her drink and pointedly ignored him, but Faryl sat back down, watching Ambarys out of the corner of his eye. Idesa ran her fingers through her hair distractedly, red eyes dull in the firelight. She looked like she hadn’t slept in a week.

“Really, Ambarys, what good would it do? The guards are about as useful as wet kindling, and there are three of them.”

“I could take those drunkards,” he said, scornful, and fire danced at his fingertips.

“Oh, for Azura’s sake.” Idesa sighed. “You know as well as any of us who Rolff’s brother is. There’s no use for it, and setting him on fire won’t solve anything.”

“It’d solve one thing, technically speaking,” Malthyr said.

“Don’t encourage him!”

The laughter and yelling died down, and the occupants of the Cornerclub fell silent as one, straining to pick up any noise from the outside. Revyn double-checked to make sure that the door was bolted, and gave the handle a rattle for good measure. Nothing.

“I think they’re gone,” he said.

A faint crash came from outside, and they all jumped. It was followed by a louder crash, and then something shattered against the door, causing Revyn to scramble away. It sounded like glass. Ambarys grabbed for the fireplace poker, but it wasn’t there. He whirled on the rest of them.

“They’re throwing bottles!”

“So?” Faryl said sensibly. “It’s stone. It’s not like they’re gonna hurt it.” More glass shattered against the exterior, followed by whoops and hollers. Ambarys ground his teeth while the others exchanged glances, uncertain.

“Get out of here, you dark elf maggots!” Unmistakably Rolff Stone-Fist himself this time, slurred as it was. “Your skin might be grey, but your guts are yellow!” Another hail of glass, followed by mocking laughter. Malthyr had to physically restrain Ambarys from charging at the door.

“Where are they getting all these bottles?” Aval asked no one in particular.

“Let go of me!” Ambarys bellowed, struggling to free himself. Malthyr hung on grimly. “This has gone on for long enough!”

“I know you’re all hiding in there.” Rolff’s voice took on what he no doubt thought was a wheedling sort of tone, the words lilting sickly-sweet. “You’re harboring that Imperial spy, aren’tcha? Maybe if you give ‘er up, we’ll leave the rest of you alone. What’d you think of that?”

Suvaris’ skin took on a sickly greenish hue. Aval and Faryl both got to their feet this time, and Malthyr’s grip on Ambarys loosened. He shrugged it away, the muscle in his jaw spasming.

“They’re probably all spies,” a different voice said. Rolff’s braying drowned out the others.

“Come out and face us, traitors! Or else we’ll have to come in.”

“Ambarys, _don’t_,” Idesa warned.

Malthyr handed Ambarys the fireplace poker. He gripped it like a mace and stomped to the door, shouldering past Revyn.

“Wait!” Idesa stood, panicked. Ambarys threw the door open just in time to see a dark shape sweep Rolff’s feet from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. His surprised yelp was cut short as the figure socked him square in the jaw, laying him out flat. Rolff’s friends both lunged for it, but they were drunk and the newcomer was faster. They made short work of both men and left them unconscious in the street, collapsed in an ungainly heap on top of Rolff. Ambarys stood frozen in the doorway, poker still raised, as their unexpected savior darted under his arm and into the warmth of the Cornerclub, shaking snow off his boots.

“Gods, it’s miserable out, isn’t it?” The hood fell back to reveal a Redguard of indeterminate age, dressed in sleek dark leather with his braids tied back to keep them out of his face. Gold rings gleamed in his nose and ears, bright against his deep brown skin. No one said anything, still caught up in the shock, and he glanced around, dark eyes curious. “This _is_ a tavern, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Malthyr said warily. The stranger grinned.

“Thought so. Got anything warm for a poor traveler passing through?”

“You didn’t kill them, did you?” Revyn asked before Malthyr could say anything else, and the man shook his head, shucking off his gloves.

“No, no. Just gave them something to think about when they wake up.”

“More’s the pity,” Ambarys said as he ducked back inside, bolting the door behind him. Suvaris scoffed into her mug. “What’s your name?”

“Jal.” His gaze lingered for a moment, and Ambarys had to suppress the instinct to snap at him for it – humans liked to stare, in Windhelm. Liked to do more than that, if they felt bold enough, and he wasn’t above breaking fingers if it came down to it, but there was no malice in Jal’s eyes. Just that smile, startlingly white. “And I wouldn’t say no to some sujamma and a room for the night, if you’ve got it.”

“You really beat the piss out of Rolff Stone-Fist,” Aval said, somewhere between shocked and admiring.

Jal gave him a puzzled look as he tucked the gloves away. “Who?” Ambarys slid a glass down to the bar, and he caught it, raising it in a brief toast. “Thank you. This is much better than whatever they serve at Candlehearth.”

“Who are you?” Idesa asked.

“And why help us?” Revyn added.

“Me? I’m just passing through.” A sly little smile hovered at the corner of his mouth. “And those men were being incredibly rude. Someone needed to teach them some manners, don’t you think?”

“Good enough for me,” Ambarys said, after a moment’s pause. “We’re a tavern, not an inn, but given the circumstances, we may have a spare cot I can dig up.”

“As long as you don’t mind sleeping in the wine cellar,” Malthyr said.

Jal chuckled. “I think I’ll manage.”

“I’ll throw you out on your ear if you touch any of it,” Ambarys warned, and Jal raised his hands in surrender, still smiling.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

*****

As it turned out, their unexpected guest was a heavy sleeper. It was near afternoon by the time Jal wandered up from the cellar, half-awake and yawning. His feet were bare, and his cuirass hung open over a thin linen undershirt, his braids loose around his face. “Where is everyone?”

“Work. I don’t open until evening.” Ambarys poured himself a glass of water, and after a moment’s consideration, poured a second one. “You didn’t get into my wine, did you?”

“Are you always so suspicious?”

“Yes.”

Jal shook his head, smiling, and perched on the barstool across from him. Ambarys thought he might be in his late twenties, possibly younger – his face was round and boyish in the daylight, eyes still soft with sleep – but he wasn’t sure. It was hard to tell with humans.

“So, those charming men from last night. Friends of yours?”

Ambarys barked out a short, humorless laugh. “What do you think?”

“Right. Good to know Windhelm is as much of a skeever-hole as ever.”

“Are you from here?”

“Hardly. But I come through now and again on my way to Winterhold.”

A member of the College, then, though he didn’t look like any mage Ambarys had ever known. Maybe he didn’t want to stand out any more than he already did – most of Skyrim’s denizens were notoriously suspicious of both foreigners and mages. To be both was to be anathema. “Azura knows why you bother,” he said instead. “But it’s nice to see not everyone’s afraid to stand up to them.”

“Afraid? That lot is about as threatening as a pine thrush.” Jal drummed his fingers against the counter, taking a sip of his water. “You don’t happen to serve lunch in this place, do you?”

“I do if you can pay for it.”

“What, my dashing hero routine wasn’t good enough for a free meal?”

Ambarys snorted. “This is a business. Pay up or eat somewhere else.”

“Touchy,” Jal said, but his tone was playful. He plunked a handful of septims on the bar, accompanied by a wink and that ever-present smile. Ambarys swept them into his apron pocket, grumbling, and went to the cellar. He wasn’t mad, exactly, even though he felt like he ought to be; there was something he liked about Jal, despite the man’s irritatingly cheery demeanor. Maybe it just was his willingness to punch Rolff Stone-First in the face.

He made horker stew – he’d had a crate of ash yams shipped in from Solstheim earlier in the week, feeling homesick – and they ate standing at the bar, washing it down with mazte between bites.

“So, does that happen a lot?” Jal asked abruptly, wiping his fingers on his napkin. “Those men coming here, I mean.”

“It’s been worse since Ulfric took Markarth,” Ambarys said, and Jal’s mouth turned down at the corners. “It wouldn’t be so bad if Idesa and Revyn would just let me handle it.” He scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon. “None of these Dunmer have any fight in them. It’s pathetic.”

“Right.” Jal cleared his throat. “You seem… tense.”

“You don’t say,” Ambarys snapped, and they finished their meal in silence. He thought maybe Jal would leave after that, but he insisted on doing the washing up instead, and Ambarys let him, baffled by his politeness.

“That was delicious,” he said as he dried off their utensils. “Thank you.” Ambarys waved him off with a grunt. “When do you open, again?”

“Come six or so. Those go in the cabinet under the bar.”

It was just turning mid-afternoon, deep gold light filtering in through the narrow window at the top of the door. Jal shut the cabinet decisively. “Good,” he said. “That leaves plenty of time.”

“Time for what?”

“You’re very uptight,” Jal said, and held up his hand when Ambarys opened his mouth to retort. “Just an observation, no judgments. Luckily, I think I can assist you with that particular problem.”

“Who says I need your help?”

“No one. You can send me away any time you like. Or,” and here a dimple revealed itself in Jal’s cheek when his grin widened, “you can let me help you relax.”

Ambarys’ scowl deepened. “Are you talking about skooma? If you brought skooma into my establishment – “

“No, you ass,” Jal said cheerfully. “I’m asking if you want to fuck.”

For the first time in his adult life, Ambarys Rendar had nothing to say. He stood with the tankard of mazte clutched stupidly in his hands, his head buzzing, and Jal chuckled ruefully in the face of his silence.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t assume. Do you like men?”

“Sometimes,” Ambarys’ mouth said, while the rest of him was still trying to parse out how he should be feeling right then.

“Well, that’s encouraging.” Jal was short for a Redguard. He had to stand on tip-toe to lean across the bar, hands braced against the edge. His nose almost brushed Ambarys’ cheek, and the smile was back in his voice, along with something else that made goosebumps ripple along Ambarys’ skin. “Do you want to find out if this is one of those times?”

_Oh, fuck it,_ Ambarys thought, and kissed him. The angle made it odd at first, strained, but then Jal climbed over the bar and wrapped his legs around Ambarys’ hips, and the kiss went from mediocre to good in very short order. Jal was a quick learner. Once he figured out how Ambarys liked to be kissed – firm, plenty of lip-biting, not too much tongue – good became outright spectacular. It had been a long time since Ambarys had slept with anyone, even longer since he’d kissed anyone, and he’d forgotten how much he liked it. He got a little too enthusiastic at one point and tried to bury his hands in Jal’s braids, but Jal grabbed his wrists and stopped long enough to give him a look. “Hair’s off-limits.”

“Sorry,” Ambarys said gruffly, lowering his hands. Jal’s expression softened, sunny again, and he leaned in and ran his tongue along the tapered point of Ambarys’ ear. Ambarys’ knees almost buckled, the ghost of a moan caught in his throat.

“That’s better,” Jal purred. Teeth grazed his earlobe. “Do you want to move this to your bed?”

“It’s a long walk to the bed,” Ambarys said, and bit back another undignified noise as Jal’s lips found the spot just behind his ear.

“True, but you’re taller than me.”

“So?”

“So, I can’t very well fuck you standing up, can I?”

They eventually made it up the stairs, but it took a while. They kept getting distracted along the way, shedding clothes in their wake, and both of them were mostly naked by the time they fell into the bed. Ambarys kept trying to roll them over so he was on top for the moment, trying to get Jal’s underwear off, but Jal wasn’t having any of it. He pushed Ambarys face-down into the mattress, gentle but insistent, and straddled his waist. “I told you, you need to relax.”

“What does it look like I’m trying to do?” Ambarys grumbled. Or at least, he tried to grumble, but Jal started kneading his shoulders with warm, callused hands, thumbs smoothing out on the knots at the base of his neck, and it came out as “_nngh_,” instead. Jal laughed.

“We’ll get to it, don’t worry. There’s no rush.”

There was a part of Ambarys that very much disagreed with that assessment, especially with the way Jal’s weight kept bearing down so that his cock rubbed against the sheets, but he’d temporarily lost his ability to form words. He lay there, hands twisting in the quilt, and let Jal’s clever fingers work the kinks out of his back. It hurt, but in the way where it rode the line between pleasure and pain, and he tried not to squirm, groaning into the pillows.

“Can I untie your hair?” Jal asked him, and he nodded. Jal undid the leather tie, letting his hair spill onto the pillows, and started massaging his scalp, blunt nails scratching the skin lightly. “Feeling better?”

Ambarys thought he might have said yes, but he also might have said “_hngh_.” It was hard to tell with his mind so pleasantly fuzzy.

“Good,” Jal said, and nipped the point of his ear with quick teeth. Ambarys’ breathing hitched.

“You do this for every innkeeper that lets you sleep in the wine cellar?”

“Only the good-looking ones.”

“You’re full of it,” Ambarys said, muffled against the pillows. _Good-looking for a Dunmer, _he’d been told plenty of times, and he found that he’d been expecting it, but Jal just chuckled and ran his hands down Ambarys’ arms, kneading the muscles there. His mouth found the side of Ambarys’ neck first, followed by the curve of his ear, hot and wet, and Ambarys bucked, hips grinding into the bed.

“Do you want me to stop, then?”

“No,” Ambarys said quickly, “No, no…”

“That’s what I thought.” He went back to nibbling on Ambarys’ ears, pinning his wrists to the bed until Ambarys was trembling beneath him with the effort of holding still, breath coming out in short, sharp pants. “You’re holding back,” he murmured, and flicked Ambarys’ earlobe with his tongue, sucking it between his lips. “You don’t have to do that.” A reluctant moan escaped, and Jal smiled against his skin. “Better.”

“Why – “ Ambarys lost his breath for a moment when Jal pressed his cock to the cleft of Ambarys’ ass. It was hard and straining against his smallclothes, and he rocked teasingly, slow and deliberate. The tip was wet – he could feel it through the fabric – and it left a smear of precome on one cheek. “Why are you being so… so _nice_?”

“It’s in my nature,” Jal said. He let go of Ambarys’ wrists to knead at the swell of his ass, strong hands spreading him. Ambarys buried his face in the pillow, hips moving gracelessly beneath Jal’s. “And you’re very attractive when you’re not sniping at me.” Ambarys could hear the grin in his voice. “It’s not exactly charity work.”

“Well then don’t just sit there,” he growled. “_Do_ something.”

“Say please,” Jal said. Ambarys tried to wriggle out from under him, but Jal’s long, clever fingers pressed against him, massaging the sensitive skin of his hole, and he stopped, back arching. “Otherwise I’ll tease you until it’s time to open, and send you back downstairs with your cock all hard and aching.”

“I take it back. You’re not nice, you’re a fiend.”

“Mm. You sweet talker, you.” The pads of Jal’s fingers went away and came back, slick with spit. They rubbed against him in tantalizing circles, never quite pressing inside, coaxing choked-off noises from deep in his chest. With his other hand, he freed himself from his undergarments, and stroked, his knuckles bumping against the curve of Ambarys’ ass. “If you don’t want to ask, that’s fine. I could just get myself off like this.” He chuckled, and Ambarys’ cock throbbed, trapped between his stomach and the sheets. “You can lay there and listen and think about how I could be fucking you right now.”

“Please,” Ambarys said hoarsely.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” Jal leaned down and kissed his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “I want you to suck me first. Is that alright?”

That was very much alright, so Ambarys ended up with his face buried in Jal’s lap, fingers wound through his hair while he did his best to make the smug little bastard moan. It wasn’t long before Jal was groaning, the long line of his throat laid bare as his head tipped back and his hips flexed. His cock twitched between Ambarys’ lips, shiny-wet and thick.

“Fu – oh, _there_.”

Satisfied with himself, Ambarys sucked and lapped at him until Jal made a strangled noise and pushed him away. He sat back, trying not to look overly pleased.

“Something wrong?”

“You almost made me come.” Jal’s hand curved around the back of his neck, drew him in for a deep kiss. His voice had gone rough, rumbling low in his chest. “Do you have any oil or anything?”

“Hold on.” Momentary panic set in – he couldn’t remember where he put it at first. It had been a long time since he’d had any use for it. After some frantic searching, a half-full vial turned up in the cluttered nightstand, and he shoved it into Jal’s waiting hands, glad he’d bathed earlier. “Take it slow. I haven’t done this in… a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“Long enough.”

“Fair.” Jal was gentle, movements practiced and sure, and it wasn’t long before the discomfort gave way to anticipation, pleasure sparking along Ambarys’ spine. He shoved his hips back against Jal’s hand, a wordless question, and Jal grinned and slipped his fingers free. “Ready?”

“What do you think?”

“I can’t possibly think when you look like that.” He draped himself across Ambarys’ back, kissing his shoulders, and the slick head of his cock nudged inside. “Pretend I had a witty response to you just now.” Ambarys scoffed, and it bled into a moan, back arching as Jal eased into him, pressing deeper. It was just this side of too much, pain and pleasure muddled together in his head, and he let Jal know he liked it with an encouraging groan. Jal’s breathing shifted, and he paused, his hands tightening around Ambarys’ hips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… give me a minute.” He pressed his forehead between Ambarys’ shoulder blades and chuckled, sheepish. “I don’t want to come when I’ve barely started. That would be mortifying.”

“And after all your big talk,” Ambarys said, shifting beneath him. 

“Oh, shut up.” He bit the tip of Ambarys’ ear lightly, drawing forth a startled moan. The first few thrusts were slow, unhurried, but soon it wasn’t enough and Ambarys took charge, rolling his hips back against Jal. It took them a minute to get the rhythm figured out, but they eventually settled into it, Jal panting in his ear while they fucked. The sounds of their skin and sweat and the wet noise of the oil mingled, filling the room. Ambarys shoved his hand between his legs and palmed himself, stroking his cock. He didn’t think he was going to last much longer – there was already a knot low in his belly, heat burning just beneath his skin. Jal’s fingertips dug into his hips and arse. “Where do you want me to come?”

“Doesn’t matter, just don’t stop.” He was embarrassed by his own neediness, but Jal seemed to like it; he exhaled, a shaky little moan escaping him, and pulled Ambarys flush against him. The new angle was a subtle shift, but a welcome one, and Ambarys rutted into his own fist, breathing hard through his nose. Jal fucked him steadily, in time with his frantic strokes, and when he came, everything went white behind his eyelids for a moment. Jal pinned him down and kept going until Ambarys tried to jerk away and made a pained noise, his overstimulated nerves on fire.

“Enough, I can’t,” he panted, eyes screwed shut, “I can’t, I can’t,” and then his discomfort gave way to relief and a strange sort of emptiness as Jal eased out of him, leaving him gasping on the bed. There was the sound of Jal spitting into his hand and the slick, frantic sound of skin on skin. When he came, he made a noise that might have been Ambarys’ name, or a prayer, and something hot and wet spattered across Ambarys’ ass just before Jal collapsed onto the bed next to him, breathing hard.

They were both quiet after that. The room was cool, even with the fire blazing in the hearth, and the air felt good on Ambarys’ sweat-damp face. He stared at the headboard, and then glanced over at Jal, who had rolled onto his back and was laying with his eyes closed, lips parted and forehead glistening. He was going to be sore later, and the feeling of Jal’s come drying wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he didn’t regret it.

“You alright?” Jal asked finally.

“Mm.” He rolled onto his side with a wince. “Although I don’t know how you expect me to do anything after that.”

“I don’t,” Jal said, sitting up. “Your patrons do.”

“Either way, this is entirely your fault.”

“I’m willing to accept responsibility for that.” He leaned over and dropped a light kiss onto Ambarys’ mouth. “Wait here. I’ll draw you a bath.” Ambarys thought about protesting – he wasn’t helpless, just muzzy with contentment – but it felt nice to let someone else handle things for a bit. Just this once, he thought. It couldn’t hurt.

*****

Jal stayed that night, too, this time in Ambarys’ bed. Neither of them was up to fucking again, but at some point they woke up with their limbs tangled, Jal hard against his thigh, and Ambarys wrapped his hand around their cocks and stroked them both until Jal came with a muffled groan, face buried in Ambarys’ throat. Ambarys wasn’t far behind. They both drifted off again soon after, and he thought maybe he dreamt it at first, but when he woke again it was near dawn and Jal was sitting at the foot of the bed, pulling on his boots.

“In a hurry?” he asked sleepily.

“I should have left hours ago,” Jal admitted and stood, tucking his braids into his hood. “Not that I’m complaining, but… duty calls.”

Ambarys was curious, but not enough to bother prying. It wasn’t any of his business. “Safe travels.” He burrowed deeper into the quilt. “Come back again sometime, if you want.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jal said, and winked. Ambarys fell back into slumber with the press of lips against his temple, and when he woke, it was to a brilliant late winter morning, the sky an icy, cloudless blue. The bed was cold. He cleaned up, then went downstairs to open for lunch, where he discovered a bottle of sujamma missing from the cellar, a handful of septims in its place on the rack. He pocketed them with a grimace and stomped back upstairs, shaking his head. Malthyr looked over from where he was stoking the fire.

“Your new friend leave already?”

“Friend’s a bit strong,” Ambarys said, setting the wine he’d brought up with him on the counter. “Left this morning.”

“I dunno.” Malthyr prodded at one of the logs with the poker, sending a shower of embers into the chimney. “Seemed like an alright sort.”

Ambarys ducked down to retrieve a clean glass, behind the bar where Malthyr couldn’t see him smile.

“He’s alright,” he agreed. “For a human.”


End file.
